


In Heroes We Trust

by Rainbowfootsteps



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowfootsteps/pseuds/Rainbowfootsteps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil has a magic 8-ball. The catch: it's really magic, and gives him superpowers. But he's not the only superhero in town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Naruto Run Away From Your Problems - Or Throw Dirt At Them

Emil was, as usual, stressing about his 8-ball. It sat in his schoolbag, its emotional weight far heavier than any textbook.  
Even sitting in english, his favourite class, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“For homework, I expect you all to have read to chapter five.” Collective groans spread throughout the classroom. Nobody liked Mr. Kirkland’s assignments, not even the teachers pets. Emil glanced at the clock, his pale fingers tapping his desk lightly. brrring! He was first out the door.

“Hey, Emil!” He turned to see his friend Leon running to catch up with him. Hong Kongese and an introvert, he was a target for bullying just like Emil, so they’d bonded over mutual fear of being alone at school. 

“Yeah?” 

“Want to come over to my place? The latest Naruto episode is up.” Leon offered.

“Sorry, can’t today. I have a doctor’s visit.” This much was true - but that was an hour away. His ulterior motive was the 8-ball. He was itching to take it out of his schoolbag and shake it.

“Alright, dude. I won’t watch it without you.” Leon said with a smile, his floppy brown hair getting in his eyes.

“Thanks.” Emil responded, smiling back. They parted ways - Leon’s house was on the other side of town. Emil felt a wriggle of guilt in his gut. 

For a while, Emil didn’t think of anything as he walked, head down and shoes scuffing the sidewalk a little. He passed the edge of the school and started to walk through suburbia, following an unseen trail through identical houses. Then he turned down an avenue. It opened up into a park bordered by houses, with a forest on one side. That was where Emil was headed. In amongst the oak trees he was alone. There he could shake the 8-ball. He slipped into the sparse forest. Then a voice came from behind him.

“Hey, snow white! Where do you think you’re going?”

 

Dammit. He shouldn’t have kept going to the same place. Emil swallowed and slowly turned around. A few metres away, leaning on a tree, was Luciano, fulltime asshole and one of the many bullies at Harlequin High. By his side was Lutz, his buddy-in-brutality, muscular arms crossed and a glare on his face.

“What do you want, Luc?” Emil asked warily, reaching for his schoolbag.

“A little bird told me you hadn’t been graced with this year’s bruiser.” the Bruiser was Luciano’s asshole way of stating that he was the Biggest Asshole: a punch from Lutz on the arm that created a massive purple bruise. Anyone that refused getting a bruiser got several instead. Emil backed away slightly, rummaging in his backpack.

“What are you gonna do, stab me with a pencil?” Luciano asked snidely. Emil’s hand closed over the 8-ball and he pulled it out of his bag.

“Go away, Luc.” He pronounced it the way Luciano hated, like ‘Luke’, and Luciano’s smile turned to a scowl.

“You’re a real punk-ass bitch, you know?” He growled. Emil shook the 8-ball, eyes widening as Lutz started to walk towards him. He glanced down at the 8-ball.

Geokineses.

He instantly felt the change. His body surged with a new power, a sixth sense. Lutz clearly saw a change in him and faltered. Emil put the 8-ball in his pocket and raised his hand. A chunk of earth in front of Luciano came out of the ground and rose up, crumbling slightly.

“What the fuck?” Luciano cried, jumping away from the floating dirt. With a flick of his wrist, Emil sent it flying at Lutz, smacking into his shirt and sending dirt everywhere. Emil concentrated and a nearby rock started to hover, creeping along towards Lutz.

“I’m gonna get you so bad, albino boy! Fuck you and your weird-ass party tricks!” Luciano screeched, running away. Lutz also made a hasty retreat, spitting at Emil before running after Luciano.

Emil sighed. He was sitting in a tree, playing with a floating lump of clay. He only had to think about it and the clay would dance and convulse. That 8-ball had been stressing him out for as long as he had owned it - three weeks now exactly. He remembered the day vividly. A hot afternoon walking through town, and he’d popped into a pawn shop. There were all kinds of things- dragon candleholders, jewellery, suspiciously off brand phones. The store owner was a large old man with a lazy eye, and had encouraged him to try on his grungy selection of snapbacks. But the 8-ball had stood out from the rest of his junk, sitting in a corner. ‘magic 8-ball. more than meets the eye!’. It had only cost him five dollars. How was he supposed to know it gave him superpowers?

What if one day he shook it, and it said ‘immortality’? And if it didn’t wear off after an hour like it usually did? What if it said ‘self destruction’, or ‘poison touch’, and he killed someone? Emil sighed and gently moved the 8-ball from his pocket back into his bag. He had a doctor’s appointment and if he missed it he’d be in deep shit with his mum. And maybe afterwards, he’d have time to go over to Leon’s and watch some Naruto.


	2. Do You Think This Kid Has Ever Heard Of Self Preservation?

Mrs. Steilsson was not a motherly woman by any stretch of the imagination. A single mother accountant, she was tall, intelligent and efficient to the extreme. The only trait Emil had inherited was her almost-white hair. Every day she would leave for work at 7:30 sharp, her platinum blonde hair in a tight bun, and sometimes return as late as midnight. This arrangement worked well for Emil, as it meant he had free reign of the house all day. At the moment he was slumped in front of the television, Simpsons reruns playing as he battled with algebra. His doctor’s appointment had been painfully run of the mill; he’d been told, again, that he was more close to being underweight than the doctor liked. So he was on the slim side - it wasn’t hurting him. He sighed and closed his maths books, none of the questions completed. His eyes glazed over as he watched the simpsons, until suddenly the program changed.

“News Direct, I’m Junior Davis.” The heavyset face of the reporter didn’t look like someone who was called Junior. Emil drifted away from the couch and into the kitchen, the tv still in view. He started to pour himself a glass of juice as not-so-junior Junior continued.

“We interrupt your afternoon with breaking news. Harlequin City Bank has been attacked by several as yet unidentified men, who are keeping several employees hostage.” At this, Emil looked up, his juice slopping over the edge of his glass. The screen was showing panoramic views of the outside of the bank - an ugly brick facade with large oak doors.

“It is advised that if you live nearby, please stay at home and lock your doors. Police are on the scene but have not been able to enter without endangering the lives of the hostages.” Damn, sounded serious. Emil suddenly had a thought. He glanced over at the 8ball. It sat on the coffee table, silently reflecting the light of the television. It was stupid. It was reckless. It was going to be awesome.

He turned off the tv, abandoned his juice, and scooped up the 8ball. He threw it back in his schoolbag. Quickly he scribbled a note on a piece of paper. Having a sleepover with Leon. See you tomorrow. He’d be back before mum got home, but just in case - just in case what? He refused to finish that sentence. He put on his schoolbag and walked out.

He was out the door and on his skateboard in record time. The streets were winding but downhill and he made good time. Soon he was on a road off the main street, only a block from the bank. Orange police tape stopped him from going any further.

“You’d better turn around, kid.” A policeman grunted, leaning on his police car a few metres from where Emil stood. He could hear sirens and commotion but he wasn’t close enough to see it.

“What’s happening?” He asked, kicking his skateboard into his hand. The policeman had a massive moustache that seemed to blot out the rest of his face.

“Bank robbery. Don’t want civilians getting near.” He responded.

“You alright, kid?”

“Yeah.”

He slipped into an alley not far away. This was so stupid, he was so stupid. But what was the point of owning the 8ball if he didn’t use his powers? He wriggled off his schoolbag and pulled out the 8ball. Give me a good one, dammit, or I’m going home. He shook it.

Invisibility.

Hell yes. Emil breathed in deeply as he felt the new energy pulsing through him, a sensation like the chill you get when listening to great music. Putting the 8ball in his pocket, he focused his mind on the new feeling. Nothing seemed to happen. He looked down at his hand. He could see it. Was it working? He shrugged off his schoolbag and stepped out of the alley. The policeman was still there, smoking now. Emil gently crawled under the tape. The policeman didn’t even look up.

The bank was surrounded by policeman. A klaxon was blaring somewhere, and a scary amount of guns were pointed at the barred windows of Harlequin City Bank. Between the bank and the building to its left was a small path. Emil crept down it, nerves on edge. The back of the bank was suspiciously deserted. Then Emil looked down. On the ground in front of an open door, a policeman lay, looking horribly like he was dead. Emil froze, then slowly kneeled down and searched for a pulse. Thank god, he was alive. Thanks for the first aid lessons, Mrs. Zwingli! 

Emil peered into the open door. It was green and probably a fire exit. Inside were white, well-lit corridors. His heart was thumping in his chest. Nobody could see him. He was fine. If it was dangerous, he could just leave. Nobody would know he was there. He cautiously stepped into the building.

He could hear voices. Yells and cries. He followed them, up a set of stairs. He’d been in the bank once before, he knew the setup. There was a sort of mezzanine above the banking floor, where you could send letters and get stamps. That was where he was. He could hear the voices clearly now, the only thing separating them being a heavy door.  
“Let me go! Fuck you!” A man yelled. Emil quietly pushed the door open. What he saw made his jaw hang open like a stunned fish. A blond man in dark clothing was holding another, larger man in the air, but not with his hands - although one was held out as if holding an apple. A green mist wrapped around the larger man, binding him tightly as he writhed and struggled. Emil was so shocked that he felt his invisibility escape him, and he couldn’t help but exclaim-

“What the fuck?”


	3. This Was In No Way Inspired By Animorphs (Okay, A Little)

Emil’s exclamation made both men turn to look at him in surprise.

“Lukas, everything alright up there?” A voice floated up from below them.

“There’s some kid up here.” The blond man called back.

“I-I’m not a kid!” Emil cried. Lukas lowered his hand and the mist-ensnared man dropped to the ground.

“I’ll kill yeh!” He roared. Lukas took a step towards Emil.

“Get out of here. It’s not safe.” He demanded.

“I have powers too! I’m not helpless!” Emil blurted out. Lukas frowned. 

“Stay in this room. Do not leave.” He ordered. He flicked his wrist sideways, sending his captive flying off the mezzanine. Emil ran to the bannister. Holy shit. 

The man in the mist was now pinned against a wall, but that wasn’t what Emil was gaping at. The room was filled with people fighting. People with powers. Fire burst from a tall man’s fingertips, and another seemed to be made out of stone. He had what looked like a dog fighting by his side. They were outnumbered by bad guys but were clearly winning. He didn’t see anyone that looked like a hostage. Emil turned back to stare at Lukas. Then back at the chaos below. Then back at Lukas.

“Dude, the fuck?”

Lukas glanced over the edge. He stood silently for a moment, clearly making a decison.

“Stay here.” He commanded again, and ran out of the mezzanine.

“Wait!” Emil cried, but Lukas was already through the heavy doors, closing them behind him. Should he follow Lukas? He’d said to stay here. But since when had Emil listened to his elders? His thought process was interrupted by the sound of clumping footsteps coming closer, opposite from the direction Lukas had gone. Quickly Emil went invisible, the speedy transformation causing a shiver up his spine. 

“Alright, you punkass bitches! Playtime’s over.” A woman’s voice roared. The door was kicked open and it was all Emil could do to not squeak in fear. A tall, muscular woman in black clothing wielding a horrifyingly large gun - an AK47, Emil guessed - walked onto the mezzanine. She looked around suspiciously, making eye contact with Emil for a heartstopping second. Slowly Emil started to creep around her towards the door. Creeeak. He flinched as the wooden floor groaned. The woman whipped around, fury etched on her face.

“Alright, you mutant freak. Trying to stop us getting our prize, huh?” She roared, opening fire. Ratatatatat! Emil couldn’t help but scream as bullets ripped into the walls on every side of him. He took a diving leap and ran through the heavy wooden doors. 

He had no idea where he was going. He just ran. He raced down a flight of stairs, each step groaning and shrieking out his presence. 

“Come on! Go, go! We’ll hold them off!” He heard a voice yell. Then there was a muffled static burst.

“This is the police! We are administering tear gas. Open the front doors immediately.” A grainy voice announced from a loudspeaker. Emil kept running. Where the hell was the exit? He turned a corner and muffled a gasp. 

A wolf stood in front of him, only a few metres away. It stood in front of a closed door, hackles raised and lips peeled back into a snarl. It sniffed and looked around, its piercing purple eyes glancing around suspiciously. Emil couldn’t breathe. God, what the fuck had he got himself into? The wolf sniffed again, then growled. Emil cringed back, then blinked and rubbed his eyes. Why did they feel so irritated? Then his eyes snapped wide open.

Something was happening to the wolf; something grotesque. Crunch. Crack. The sound of snapping bones wrapped around his skull and pierced his brain, making him want to vomit. The wolf’s face warped and flattened. Its limbs jerked and elongated. In barely a few seconds, the horrific transformation was over. The wolf had become a short man in black pants and a white t shirt. As soon as its new form had been created, the man-wolf opened the door behind it.  
“Berwald, there’s gas! Is everyone out?” He called. There was a response which Emil couldn’t make out, and frankly he was too terrified to move. His heart was pounding so loudly most of his other senses were blocked out. Except, unfortunately, pain.

“Ouch!” The exclamation slipped out as something stung his eyes and lungs. The man-wolf instantly whirled around and raised his fists. Emil coughed and cringed.

“Who’s there?” The man asked in a wary tone. Emil couldn’t keep up his invisibility any longer. Slowly he felt it ebb away. The man stared at him with shocked violet eyes.

“P-please don’t hurt me.” Emil stammered, trying to suck in air. 

“You… You have powers?” The man murmured softly, perplexed. Then Emil coughed and the man took a step forward.

“Hey, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you. But if you stay here you’re going to get hurt. Follow me.” The man stretched out a hand. Emil hesitated, then felt his eyes burn. Slowly he took the man’s hand, and followed him out through the door.

Emil couldn’t see much as they ran through corridor after corridor. His eyes watered and his throat felt sore. But the man kept leading him through the building, and then out into the fading light. Emil wiped tears from his eyes and stared at his saviour. The man’s hair was short and straight with a round face. Emil couldn’t work out whether it was muscle or fat that made his figure somewhat chubby-looking. 

“Hey. My name’s Tino.” Emil kept staring at him. They were in an alleyway, the sound of the police storming the bank quiet in the distance. Tino looked at Emil sympathetically.

“You too, huh?” He said with a little sigh. Emil stared at him blankly.

“Um. You were like. A wolf.” He said, lost for coherent words. In the soft light of evening, it was hard to envisage this cheerful man as a ruthless beast. But he was pretty sure of what his eyes had seen. Like, ninety percent sure. Tino looked like he was about to say something, then looked around at the littered alley floor. He kneeled down and scooped up a pizza hut leaflet and a stubby pencil.

“I know this is a lot for you to take in. I’m really not sure why you were in that bank. But you’re like us, you have powers, so you need to be careful, okay?” Tino said as he scribbled something on the leaflet. 

“Here’s my address. We plan to be there tomorrow at six in the evening, so come if you want to.” He thrust the leaflet into Emil’s hands.

“We?” Emil echoed.

“If you don’t, that’s okay. But we’re like you. We have powers. And we’re trying to work out why.” Tino said, eyes shining. Emil stared at him silently. Was this happening? 

“Tino!” A voice called from far away. Tino smiled sadly.

“I hate to leave you like this. Just think about it, okay?” Tino patted him on the shoulder, then winked.

“You might want to turn around, transforming looks kind of gross.” Emil obliged, averting his eyes as Tino went through the grotesque morphing again. When the sounds of grinding and snapping finally stopped, Emil dared to take a look. A dove flew up from where Tino had stood, disappearing over a building. Emil opened his mouth, closed it again, and sat down on a dumpster. What the actual fuck had just happened.


	4. Emil Gets Icy (Pun Intended)

The night after his account with Tino was more tiring than if he’d stayed awake. He tossed and turned until two in the morning, then fell asleep to nightmares of bullets gouging into his stomach. He didn’t eat breakfast.

He forced himself to go to school, but his mind was in other places - namely Tino’s offer. He contemplated it as Mr. Kirkland droned on about French literature. Was the address safe? He figured he could trust Tino, but he wasn’t sure about the man with the green mist. But they had powers. They were like him. But was he really like them? He didn’t have powers unless he had the 8 ball. Would they still let him associate with them?

“Mr. Steilsson. Are you with us today?” Emil jumped and looked up to see Mr. Kirkland looking at him crossly.

“Yes sir.” He mumbled. They would. Probably. What did he have to lose from going?

* * *

Tino’s house was a lot further away than Emil had initially thought. He skated out of suburbia and into the city. Soon he had to walk instead of risk getting mown over by bustling women with strollers and overly zealous joggers. Eventually he stopped in front of a small, brick apartment building. 

“Room 5.” He murmured, looking down at the crumpled leaflet. The building’s door suddenly got much more foreboding. He took a deep breath and pushed the ‘5’ button. A beep. Silence.

“Hello?” Tino’s voice. Emil wasn’t sure whether to be calmed by this or more on edge.

“Uh, it’s me, Emil.” He said. 

“Oh! Come on in.” With a click and a swish the door opened, a cool gust of air hitting Emil’s face. With another deep breath he walked into the building.

Tino’s apartment was on the second floor. Emil dawdled for as long as he could up the stairs, anxiety gnawing at him. Would they think his 8 ball was stupid? Were they really trustworthy? He almost turned away, but finally ended up in front of the door with a metal ‘5’ nailed on it. He rapped on it gently. With a squeak it opened and Tino’s smiling face appeared.

“Emil! Come in, come in!” He said with a smile.

Emil’s mind had made Tino’s apartment into a much more terrifying thing than it actually was. The walls were a calming pale yellow and the furniture was a mix of modern and rustic. In the lounge room was the man Emil had seen with the green mist, a man with wildly spikey hair and a somewhat terrifyingly stern man in glasses. 

“Emil, this is Lukas, Mathias and Berwald!” Tino said with a smile. Lukas betrayed no emotion as he stared at Emil, a cup of coffee in his hands as he sat on Tino’s white sofa. Mathias grinned and saluted, while Berwald made a ‘mmf’ noise.

“Do sit down!” Tino fussed over Emil, asking him if he wanted a cup of tea (‘no thank you’) or a biscuit (‘well, maybe one would be nice’), and it was a good while before Tino floated off to busy himself in the kitchen and Emil sat down awkwardly on a wicker chair. Mathias was closest to him on the sofa and he leaned over to him with a grin.

“Dude, I heard you were sick at the bank.” His bright blue eyes shined as his voice filled the room.

“You’ve got, like, invisibility? That’s awesome. But not as awesome as what I can do.” He remarked with a oh-so-casual hair flick. Then his face contorted into a scowl as Lukas kicked him in the shin.

“Not indoors.” Lukas said with a frown, and Mathias sighed.

“I set the coffee table on fire _one time_ , and now he says I can’t do my cool flame moves indoors.” He complained to Emil, then winked. 

“I’m the leader of this ragtag band. Anything you want to know, just ask!” He said proudly. Emil bit his lip.

“Okay… Um, do you know how you got your powers?” He asked. Mathias seemed to deflate a little. He opened his mouth, but Berwald beat him too it.

“That’s wh’t we’re trying to find out.” He said with a deep voice that Emil had been expecting but was in no way prepared for. Berwald seemed to emit this aura of scariness that made Emil kind of nervous.

“Our powers all appeared around the same time, two m’nths ago.” Berwald explained. He had a strange accent that seemed to swallow up some of the syllables he said. German? Scandinavian? Emil noticed he wore a wedding ring.

“Ever since then we’ve been trying to find out why we got them.” Lukas continued. Mathias nodded as if he’d been the one to explain.

“When did you get your invisibility?” Tino asked, head popping around the corner. He carried a tray of biscuits, which he gently set down on the coffee table in the middle of the lounge. Emil bit his lip harder.

“Um… that’s kind of not my power. I mean - I kind of - don’t have powers? But I do.” He said, tripping over words. The four looked at him quizzically.

“You shouldn’t have brought a kid here.” Lukas said quietly to Tino. Emil flushed and pulled the 8 ball from his pocket.

“This thing. It gives me powers. I shake it, and something comes up, and I get it for an hour.” He explained. 

“I’ve had it for three weeks. That’s…” Not even close to two months. Tino and Berwald exchanged a glance.

“An… 8 ball?” Tino asked hesitantly. Emil nodded. Lukas’s impassive eyes bored into him. They didn’t believe him. Fine, he’d show them. He shook the 8 ball, and looked at it.

_Ice mimicry._

As four sets of eyes watched him curiously, Emil felt a chilling power fill him. He let it course through him, and felt all the heat drain from his body. 

“Dude, that’s kickass.” Mathias breathed as Emil’s skin was replaced by ice. Everything - even his hair and eyes - was ice.

“Cool, right?” Emil tried not to smile at his own pun. 

“That’s awesome! But, you might want to turn back. You’re making it freezing in here.” Mathias suggested, and Emil complied, the ice receding and being replaced with his normal appearance.

Tino smiled warmly.

“We can help you find out about that 8 ball. If you would like us to.” He said gently. Emil’s heart soared. Finally, friends who understood what it was like. He smiled.

“That’d be _awesome_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the team's assembled! :P i've been trying a new format of writing recently so I reformatted the previous chapters as well, i hope you like it!


	5. That filler chapter where nothing but conversation happens

Over the next hour, Emil learned about his newfound friends. Lukas and Mathias were both 21 and in college. The ins and outs of their degrees went right over Emil’s head, but he gathered that Lukas wanted to be an artist and Mathias had no idea what he wanted to be (‘except, like, you know, I want some adventure!’). He couldn’t quite work out if they were dating. Mathias was loud and brash constantly, a stark contrast from Lukas’ introverted personality, but they seemed to care about each other a lot - even if Lukas’ version of caring was jabbing Mathias in the ribs when he said a few too many profanities.

Tino and Berwald were 25 and 26 respectively, and married, which was a surprise. Tino was so gentle, and Berwald was so… Berwald. Clearly it worked for them, and when Tino told him, Emil mumbled something polite about it as he ate another biscuit. Tino was a preschool teacher and Berwald was a florist and hobbyist author. Slowly he learned more about what they’d been doing with their powers over the past two months.

“We’re trying to work out if there’s something in common between how we got our powers.” Tino explained, cradling a cup of tea in his hands.

“Berwald and I had been out for lunch the day we got them. Nothing unusual happened. We got coffee and sandwiches, then walked back here. We didn’t meet anyone we knew - but I did get to pet a very cute cat.” Tino said, looking faintly nostalgic as he remembered the encounter. Emil looked at Mathias, who shrugged.

“It was a saturday. I had a hangover.” He said with a grin. 

“Lukas was sick, so he didn’t leave the house.” Mathias continued. Lukas clearly didn’t approve of Mathias speaking on his behalf and gave him a glare.

“So yeah, we don’t have a fucking clue what caused it.” He sighed. 

“Language.” Tino reprimanded gently. There was a faint beeping noise and Lukas looked up from his phone.

“We’ve got a jewellery store robbery.” He reported, tapping at his phone screen.

“They’re heading out of town, but we can cut them off on Yew street if we hurry.” He glanced at Emil, then Tino. Tino sighed.

“And I haven’t organised tomorrow’s lesson yet…” He murmured, pinching his nose.

“I’m sorry, Emil. I’m sure we can talk more on - what day is it? - next wednesday afternoon, how’s that?” Tino said with a smile. Emil felt heat rise in his cheeks. They expected him to go home.

“I’m coming too!” He protested. Mathias stood up and picked up the leather jacket draped over the couch arm.

“Let the kid come! What are the robbers gonna do, bring a bazooka?” He said, shrugging on the jacket. That, with his spiky hair, would have made him intimidating if not for his massive smile and slightly gangly limbs. 

“We’ll take care of him.” Berwald interjected. Emil looked at him, surprised. Berwald was on his side? Lukas had a hint of emotion on his face - annoyance?

“Someone else’s child?” Tino exclaimed in disbelief. He bit his lip indecisively.

“Well… I suppose this is a special situation…. if he doesn’t get close… And if there’s a weapon, he stays in the car. Do you have a cell phone? Give me your number just in case. Does the middle seat of the van have a proper seat belt?” Tino fussed over Emil until Berwald gently reminded him that they needed to get going. With a final worried huff of air, Tino agreed to let Emil come (‘but stay behind one of us all the time!’). Mathias grinned and punched Emil’s arm.

“You ready to kick some butt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoah!!! Such a short chapter!! and it took so long!!!! I'm so sorry guys, the next chapter will be full of adrenaline-packed butt kicking ;D


	6. Epic adventures and psychedelic giraffes

Kicking butt was not as adrenaline-packed as Emil had originally thought. The group of five stood by the side of the road, a bridge to their left and the edge of the city to their right. Harlequin City, while not small, barely had any outskirts and melted into countryside five minutes from Tino and Berwald’s house. Over the bridge was farmland, then mountains blue in the distance. Tino sat in the car, ready for a speedy getaway; Emil and the others waited by the motorway for the thieves to turn up.

“You’re sure they went this way?” Emil asked Lukas, squinting at the road. It stayed depressingly empty.

“There’s no other way out of town from their position without getting closer to the police station. Black car, number plate EFG672. Keep an eye out.” Lukas replied, his cold blue eyes scanning the horizon. Emil grumbled an insult and pushed his hands into his jeans. He’d shaken the 8 ball a few minutes ago - hydrokinetic whip generation sounded cool, but was actually kind of lame, especially when he splashed water all over his top accidentally. Mathias was even less patient than Emil; he was pacing back and forth over the road.

“What are they doing, getting a smoothie or something before they make a getaway?” He complained, running a hand through his already wild hair.

_Screech!_

With a horrendous wail, a black car zipped around a corner and zoomed towards them. Berwald grunted. His skin went darker, almost to black, and his hair and facial features just... disappeared. In it’s place was white glowing eyes and no mouth and nose. Then he stepped onto the road. Emil watched in shock as the car raced towards Berwald. Lukas stretched out his arms and his eyes glowed green. Mist swirled around the car’s wheels and they stopped spinning. The car barely lost any momentum before it hit Berwald. With a hideous shriek, the car came to a shuddering halt, and the front buckled. Emil could only stare as Berwald backed away from the crumpled front of the car, not a scratch on him. Except for the lack of mouth and nose, but that had been a problem before the car crash.

“That was fucking incredible!” Emil breathed. 

“Language.” Tino called from inside the car. Then the door of the black car swung open and a balaclava-clad man with a handgun stumbled out.

“Get behind me.” Lukas demanded. Emil obliged, ducking behind him as the robber got his bearings. Before he could, however, Mathias sent a comically tiny ball of flame, no bigger than a golf ball, flying towards his hand. With a howl he dropped his gun and clutched his burning fist. Emil suddenly became aware of the pressing sound of sirens getting closer.

“Alright, let’s go!” Tino called. Berwald pushed the robber to the ground and picked up the gun, then started to run to the car. Emil followed, his shoes smacking against the tarmac. He hopped into the back seat, instantly squashed between Mathias and Lukas. As soon as Berwald was in the front seat Tino took off at a breakneck, racing, adrenaline-inducing 50 kilometres per hour.

“Shouldn’t we be escaping the scene a little faster?” Emil queried, peering out the back window at the man slumped on the grass beside the road.

“Breaking the speed limit is _never_ acceptable.” Tino replied firmly.

* * *

They were back by 9. Most of the ride back had been Emil trying to sound interested about Mathias’ motorbike, and by the time he was back in Tino’s lounge he was seriously considering telling Mathias to shut it. How did Lukas stand his constant chatter? 

“I suppose I’d better take you home, Emil.” Tino said with a smile. The smile slowly turned into an indecisive lip purse. He ushered Berwald into a corner, exchanged a few hushed words with him, then turned back to Emil.

“Alright, let’s get you home!”

-

Emil’s eyelids were starting to get heavy as Tino pulled into his driveway. No lights were on inside.

“Emil.” Tino reached up and turned on the car’s light, and turned to face him. His round face was pinched with worry.

“Today was… irresponsible of us. Taking you with us put you in danger. As adults we’re accountable for anything that happens to you when you’re with us, so… I’m afraid what happened tonight won’t be happening again for a while, okay?” He said. It took a moment for the meaning of those words to dawn on Emil.

“But I’m not in danger! I have powers, I can protect myself!” He protested. This was unfair! They couldn’t give him a taste of the awesome life they led then suddenly exclude him like that!

“I’m sorry Emil, but this is for your own safety. You can still come over, just… No more adventures, okay?” Tino’s smile was sympathetic, but Emil just felt angry.

“Goodnight, Tino.” He got out of the car before a bitter torrent of words could explode from his mouth.

He was being excluded. Excluded from kickassery, just because he was a kid! Emil had the most anger-filled dinner of cereal known to man, then lay out on his bed fuming silently. This was so stupid! Nothing bad had even happened! Slowly fatigue overcame him, and he fell asleep into an absurd dream of badly rendered video game giraffes running in circles. Thank god that dreams didn’t always conveniently reflect one’s current emotions and fears, or Emil’s night likely would have been emotionally traumatising.


End file.
